Addison could still remember the deep chill that coursed through her body when she discovered that Derek had cheated on her.

She remembered perfectly that morning in Seattle, where the icy air welcomed the day and intertwined gently with the incessant raindrops that fogged the windows of the trailer in which they lived.

The night before, Derek hadn't returned from the prom with her because he had had to perform an emergency surgery on a critically ill patient. So that day, he hadn't woken up next to her.

Addison got out of bed feeling cold, and the first thing she did was look for her husband's jacket to warm herself up. She recalled that he had rushed to the operating room, leaving his suit strewn across the sofa in his office. But before leaving the hospital, she had picked it up and taken it with her back to the trailer.

She remembered that while putting on the jacket, she couldn't help but stroke the fabric and inhale his scent a few times because it reminded her of him. She missed his characteristic aroma and the warmth of her husband who used to embrace her.

The night before, she had felt somewhat disappointed. It wasn't as if she had expected a bunch of teenagers dancing in the hospital hall to be like a fairytale, but she had hoped for it.

She hated her own prom. Bizzy had forced her to wear a corset that barely allowed her to breathe, she had those horrible braces on her teeth that made her lisp, and her date had been Skippy Gold, a geek with an overflowing passion for Star Wars, which certainly didn't help improve the situation. During the party, he monopolized the conversation, talking only about characters and battles from the Far, far away galaxy, and he hadn't even invited her to dance.

So the idea of reliving that moment now with her husband –and without braces– had given her a glimmer of hope.

As she chose her dress at the last minute, she thought of all the things that could have happened during the gala: Derek resting his hand on her waist, pulling her close affectionately as they danced. Derek offering her a sip of his punch –alcohol-free, of course, since it was filled with teenagers. Derek singing that song at the party that she hadn't heard in fifteen years that reminded her of her youth. Derek's unwavering gaze on her figure, making her feel loved and desired again; his mouth close to her ear, whispering how beautiful she looked dressed up –and how great her teeth looked...

But none of that happened. Throughout the evening, their glances crossed sporadically, but they never found that closeness she had longed for. They hardly danced; they hardly had fun. Derek barely listened as she spoke, and the smile she had hoped to see on her husband's face had turned into a grimace of concern upon learning about the issues with the interns and Denny Duquette.

Once Addison's hands were in the jacket pockets, her fingers brushed against a delicate, soft fabric that made the world around her come to a halt. The texture of that lace thong was a foreboding sign of what she had been fearing for the past few months: the end of her marriage. The confirmation that Derek no longer loved her.

That day, Addison cried until she was exhausted. Tears streamed down her face uncontrollably, a torrent that had been held back for too long. She got drunk at Joe's bar, trying to drown her sorrows in alcohol. She attempted to gorge herself on Izzie's cupcakes, and had destructive thoughts she wasn't proud of.

Once she was alone in the Archfield room, she reflected on everything that had happened and how she had been the one to set off the bomb that destroyed her marriage. She cried for entire nights because, after all, she had been the one responsible for Derek leaving New York. She had pushed him towards Meredith. If she hadn't slept with Mark, Meredith might never have existed in their lives. Probably, Derek would never have cheated on her and wouldn't have had to hang his lover's underwear on the residents' bulletin board.

So yes, definitely the day she discovered Derek had been unfaithful, her world collapsed. However, unlike that time, Addison wasn't upset because Sam had cheated on her. On the contrary. For the first time in years, she felt free.

She had spent entire days consumed by her own guilt and self-criticism. She had hated herself for what she had done, both with Sam and Derek. She had labeled herself a bad person, a compulsive cheater incapable of maintaining a relationship. She had been convinced that she didn't deserve anyone's love because people like her were unworthy.

But the fact that Sam –a man she considered perfect– had made the same mistake, acting impulsively and letting his momentary desires interfere in their relationship, brought her great relief. It made her realize that mistakes didn't define a person; they were simply acts, not identities.

Sam was a good person. A good person who had made a mistake, which he regretted, just like she did. And that didn't mean he deserved to be punished for life or deprived of happiness and love. No. He deserved to be loved despite that mistake.

And at the moment Addison realized that she understood that her own infidelity hadn't turned her into a bad person either. She had acted wrong, true, but inside her still resided the essence of someone capable of loving and forgiving.

Addison forgave herself and forgave Sam. Just as he agreed to forgive her and forget what had happened. It was like a clean slate in their relationship.

The first three weeks after the confession were the hardest. While neither of them held a grudge against the other –nor felt entitled to do so– reconciliation was difficult. Of course, it was. During those days, they hardly spoke except for shared breakfasts and the sparse professional exchanges at work.

It was awkward. They had made a pact of silence in which both decided not to talk about what had happened with Naomi or Derek. It didn't make sense to do so, as the details added nothing to their relationship and weren't worth remembering.

Addison was sure she wouldn't see Derek again. After much reflection, she had decided to eradicate him from her life.

One morning, she deleted his messages and blocked his cell number, making it clear that she wasn't interested in forgiving him, nor in having another conversation with him no matter how much he insisted. And he did insist. Because that message she had received two months earlier wasn't the only one. Derek had sent her at least ten more messages asking for forgiveness, each one more desperate than the last.

But Addison's resolution was firm. Even though deep down in her heart she still loved him, she knew he was part of a past she needed to let go of. And with every tear she had already shed for the shared memories, she felt more connected to her purpose of moving towards something healthier. Towards a new beginning with Sam.

Naomi, for her part, had left the city for an indefinite period. Fife had asked her to move in with him to New York, but she hadn't accepted. He belonged to her past. And she needed to think about a future away from him and Sam. She hadn't spoken to Sam since that night in his office.

"You know... I don't usually invite girls over on the first date, but... would you like to come over for dinner?" Sam had told her one night at the end of March, from the back of his house. Addison was lounging on one of the deck chairs, watching the waves of the sea with a glass of wine in her hand.

"Well, I usually don't go to guys' houses on the first date, but... I'd love to," she had replied, a small smile forming on her face. She had hoped he would be the one to lean in first.

Addison stayed at Sam's house that night. And the next night. And the one after that too. There may have been several consecutive nights they spent together because, as it is well known, the most memorable reconciliations often came loaded with unrestrained passion.

Like teenagers swept up in a torrent of hormones and emotions, they spent most of their time under the sheets, enjoying every way they could feel each other's warmth.

"Oh God!" she exclaimed, falling back exhausted next to Sam, whose skin was glowing under the dim light filtering through the curtains.

"It was better than yesterday, wasn't it?" Sam said after a while, breaking the silence with a chuckle. His words intertwined with the quick breaths they both shared. They still felt that addictive adrenaline coursing through their veins.

Addison turned to look at him, catching the golden light of dawn in her gaze. Her sparkling eyes held an innate sensuality that Sam found irresistible.

"But not better than tonight," she replied, raising an eyebrow in that blend of challenge and provocation. Despite the evident physical exhaustion they felt, there was a sparkle in her eyes that suggested she still wanted more. She could still give so much more.

"Oh really?" Sam chuckled lightly, holding her gaze. He leaned in closer, reducing the distance between them, "So do I have to wait until tonight for that?"

"I'm afraid so. We have to go to work," she murmured, gently tracing her fingertips over her boyfriend's toned chest, enjoying the way his skin reacted to her touch. She could lie next to him for eternity, but the list of patients she had that day wouldn't forgive her.

"Well, there's still half an hour left before we leave. Or you afraid of being late?" Sam whispered, moving closer to her ear.

The teasing tone in his voice made a mischievous laugh escape from Addison. Was he challenging her?

"I'll be waiting for you in the shower," she said, quickly jumping out of bed, leaving Sam dumbfounded with a playful smile on his lips.

The bathroom door closed with a soft click, and he, without waiting another minute, hurried after her.

~•~

"What pretends to be an honest, forthright accounting of a psychiatrist's professional and personal life ultimately winds up being too honest," Violet was reading aloud from the newspaper. They were all gathered in the clinic's kitchen listening to the reviews her book received. "Dr. Turner reveals herself to be more self-involved than therapeutically minded. She lacks all sense of boundaries."

"She's an idiot," Charlotte said.

"It's just a stupid review," Sam added.

"She's not just a reviewer, she's also a shrink..." Violet complained.

"It's one bad review, Violet. One," Pete emphasized, giving her a gentle kiss on the forehead before leaving the room.

Addison, who had arrived a bit late after the intense morning she had with Sam, listened quietly as she took the green juice jug out of the fridge.

"You can't worry about what a pseudo-psychiatrist says," Sheldon added.

"There is a clear pattern of narcissism in Violet Turner's brand of therapy," Violet continued reading, "she comfortably inhabits the role of emotional seductress, taking the vulnerable to where she wants them in order to achieve her own end goals."

"Blah, blah, blah. Like I said, screw them," Charlotte said.

Addison brought the glass of juice to her lips, but as soon as the liquid was in her mouth, she felt a bitter and disgusting taste on her palate. A taste that was nothing like the juice she drank every morning.

"It's just that... you know," Violet continued. "My book comes out tomorrow and people are going to be reading it..."

"That's what people do with books," Charlotte said sarcastically while stirring her lemon tea.

"I know," Violet laughed nervously, "it's just that... do you think I have no boundaries? Do you think I'm a narcissist?"

As if the question had not resonated in her mind, Addison walked over to the sink to spit out the juice in a very ungraceful manner, one that Bizzy would probably have scolded her for if she had done it as a child.

"Oh, are you okay?" Violet asked, surprised by her colleague's unexpected interruption.

"What have I told you about leaving the juice uncovered in the fridge? It goes bad!" she exclaimed, wiping her mouth with a paper napkin. Her expression was a mix of disgust and anger.

Cooper, who had remained silent during the conversation, raised his eyebrows in a gesture of surprise.

"I think that jug was unopened..." he said, making a face that concealed his desire to laugh. It was funny to see how her face had transformed over a simple juice.

Addison turned to him, clearly not satisfied with his comment. "So what? Does that justify it tasting so disgusting?"

"Well, at least you haven't drunk it all..." Cooper tried to lighten the mood, but the tension still lingered in the air.

"Then this crap must be expired..." she murmured. Her eyes frantically scanned the product label in search of the expiration date.

"Can anyone answer my question?" Violet returned to the previous topic.

They all looked at each other in an awkward moment of silence.

"I do have boundaries!" Violet complained indignantly at not receiving any responses from her colleagues.

"Dr. Montgomery," a nurse peeked through one of the kitchen doors, prompting her to look up from the juice, "a patient is waiting in the exam room."

"Okay, I'll be with her in a minute," Addison replied, walking towards the door, not before throwing the juice jug in the trash.

~•~

"So... Gwen," Addison said, reading her patient's medical history, "what brings you here?" she flashed a small smile as she sat at the desk.

"Well... my sister and I decided to open a natural cosmetics store," started the 28-year-old woman, "you know, makeup, perfumes, body oils, personal hygiene products, creams, lotions, etc."

"Okay..."

"All the products we make ourselves in my sister's garage. They are original products designed specifically for women who prefer an alternative to industrialized products, especially those that are tested on animals and harm the environment. The problem's that some of those products are still in... testing phase."

"Okay..."

"Usually, she tests them before taking them to the store, but last Friday she had to take her daughter to a birthday party, and I told her I'd take care of it. So I was left alone with the three new scents and..."

"What product are we talking about?"

"Vaginal deodorants."

Addison sighed audibly. She could already imagine what she was about to see.

"I think... I think I have a small allergic reaction down there..." the girl pointed, making a face of disgust.

"Okay, lie down on the exam table with your feet in the stirrups," Addison said, looking for latex gloves in one of the drawers.

Gwen nodded and reclined as instructed.

"You know..." Addison placed herself between the patient's legs, "It's not recommended to use deodorants in this area because it's very sensitive..." she said as she carefully inserted the speculum. "The vagina has a natural balance of pH and beneficial bacteria that help keep it healthy. This type of product, with all the chemicals and..."

"They don't have chemicals or preservatives. They are completely natural, eco-friendly, and vegan."

"Okay. I understand. However, that doesn't mean you can apply it there. These products can disrupt the vaginal pH balance, causing irritation, allergies, or in your case... infections."

"I have an infection?" she asked, surprised.

"It seems to be bacterial vaginosis."

"Will I be okay?"

"Yes. I'll prescribe you an antibiotic and you'll improve quickly."

Addison got up, took off her gloves, threw them in the trash, and walked to her desk to get her prescription pad. Gwen followed her.

"One 500 mg Metronidazole tablet every twelve hours," she said while writing, "for seven days. Avoid alcohol and sexual relations while you're in treatment. If you don't feel better in three days, come back for a check-up. Okay?"

"Yeah..." Gwen said as she received the prescription from Addison. "Wow, I think we'll need to change the formula of the deodorant..." Her tone indicated disappointment.

"Gwen, you have to forget about this deodorant. You can't sell personal hygiene products that haven't been tested by professionals. You could cause serious health problems for people."

"But Dr. Montgomery, you don't understand. My sister and I aren't making these products just to sell. They go beyond that. They are products to restore the confidence and self-esteem of thousands of women who have lost it. Do you know how many women close themselves off from the possibility of meeting the love of their lives because of vaginal odor? This deodorant will make them feel clean and secure!"

"The vagina has its cleaning mechanism, so using scented products or deodorants is neither necessary nor healthy. Maintaining proper hygiene with water and a mild soap is enough to care for this area and-"

"You're saying that because you haven't smelled the fragrances we have available. They are unique combinations created by us."

"Gwen, you're not getting me."

"Look, this one has vanilla, magnolia, and melon, the one I was using," the young woman pulled a small amber bottle from her bag.

"N-no..."

Gwen pressed the top of the product, releasing an intoxicating cloud of fragrance that headed straight for her doctor's face. From the first moment, the intense aroma of vanilla combined with the unusual hint of melon overwhelmed Addison's senses.

Still confused, Addison opened her mouth to protest, but amid her attempt to articulate a response, an unexpected gag took over her, forcing her to run to the trash can next to the examination table. Upon reaching it, she fell to her knees and said goodbye to the little she had eaten for breakfast that morning.

Gwen raised her eyebrows in surprise and, putting the prescription and the deodorant in her bag, left the room, offended by that reaction.

~•~

After that embarrassing incident in front of her patient –and hoping that no one in the clinic would even joke about it–, the next day hadn't started well for Addison either.

That morning, she found herself on her knees on the bathroom floor of her room, with her body hunched over and her forehead resting against the toilet. The cold ceramic of the bathroom contrasted with the heat radiating from her skin, an unsettling warmth that seemed to saturate every corner of her being.

She didn't usually get sick. In fact, she had always enjoyed a good immune system and a digestive tract that usually didn't cause her major issues. Her stomach was capable of handling various cuisines, as well as the large amounts of alcohol she sometimes consumed during nights of distress, and the next day she would feel as good as new. But that day was the complete opposite.

"You okay?" Sam cautiously peeked through the bathroom door. He had been listening to her vomit for a while but hadn't dared to enter. Perhaps that was another level of intimacy he wasn't ready to handle.

Addison let out a small groan of pain and grabbed a towel to wipe her mouth. "Do I look okay?" Her voice trembled and sounded raspy. She didn't even turn to look at him.

"Well, you look like... something you ate last night?"

"No. I didn't eat anything last night," she whispered, taking a deep breath as she tried to hold back what remained in her stomach. Her words slipped out between sobs and short breaths. "I was angry about the stupid complaint my patient made."

"Well, I'm not trying to defend her, but if my doctor vomited in front of me while showing me the perfume that took so much effort to create in my sister's basement, I'd be offended too." Sam tried to make her laugh but only succeeded in making her more upset.

"It wasn't the basement… And I should've reported her for attacking me with that questionable deodorant!"

"Okay, Addison. Forget it. There's no point in getting upset about this. You don't have a strict boss who's gonna fire you over that complaint, nor will it affect your reputation as a doctor. This will just... be remembered as a bad experience and nothing more."

"It's easy to say that when it didn't happen to you. That woman must now think that I'm disgusted by her perfume, her natural store, her personality. She probably thinks I hate hippies, that vegans annoy me, that I can't stand other women feeling confident with their perfumed vaginas, and... Oh God..." Nausea didn't seem willing to give her a break.

"Okay, now you're exaggerating. Gonna take the day off?" he asked, changing the subject. "You can't go to work in that state."

"I have to."

"Do you want me to give you 10 mg of metoclopramide?" he said in a distant, nonchalant tone. He sounded as if he were talking to a nurse to administer medication to a patient instead of his sick girlfriend.

"N-no…"

Her body contracted, and in an instant, her face was once again close to the toilet. Sam sighed in frustration and stepped away from the bathroom as soon as he heard her vomit again.

"I'll see you at work…" Addison replied almost breathlessly, wiping her mouth with the towel again. But she wasn't sure he had heard her.

Part of her felt sad and disappointed for not receiving even a gentle touch on her back or a loving word from her boyfriend in such a vulnerable moment.

~•~

Doctors cannot get sick.

Doctors are almost always under implicit pressure that prevents them from stopping, from feeling unwell, or showing vulnerability.

The nature of their work places them in a position where the well-being of others directly depends on their availability and attention. Knowing that their absence can have real consequences for someone else's health leads them to ignore their own symptoms or to work even when they are sick.

There is no room for their discomfort. No flu is strong enough to make them stop attending to patients, nor is back pain a good enough excuse to leave a surgery unfinished. Sick days do not exist, especially for obstetricians like Addison. They must be available 24 hours a day, 365 days a year.

It was already well-known among her colleagues that most births occurred at the most inconvenient hours of the night. Interestingly, this trend seemed to increase on rainy days when the weather posed an additional challenge on the road to the hospital.

Regardless of whether it rains, snows, or thunders, Addison always had to leave some family gathering, some birthday, or celebration, or just hurriedly get out of bed in the middle of the night to attend a birth.

She had accepted this when she chose her profession, and she rarely complained about it. But now, at that moment when her stomach felt like a volcano about to erupt, all she wanted was to lie in bed, sleeping, instead of rummaging through the kitchen cabinets for an antacid.

"Anyone hear anything from Naomi?" Cooper asked while pouring milk into his bowl of cereal.

"Uh-uh. We left her a message, but no..." Addison kept searching, still focused.

"Maybe she reconsidered and ran away with Fife..." Cooper chuckled.

"I talked to Fife," Sheldon added, "he's still here in a hotel room, waiting for her to come back from wherever she is."

"Where the hell is the damn antacid?!" Addison shouted, losing the little patience she had that day. She remembered leaving the remedy in one of those cabinets the day before, and it had vanished. Like everything else she left there, basically.

The practice's kitchen sometimes felt like a black hole. The things she put in the cabinets or fridge never seemed to come out. And usually, it didn't bother her when someone else took her things, but that day, she felt a fury she couldn't explain taking over her body.

"I'm sorry," Violet said, handing her the bottle of remedy. "I needed it."

Addison just looked at her frustrated and started drinking the product, desperate for the pink liquid to extinguish the fire rising in her esophagus.

"I felt the same way before my book party," Sam said.

"Revisionist history," Cooper teased. "If you recall, on his big day, they made a cake that looked like Sam and he wouldn't let us eat it. He was just staring at it with this smile on his face that matched the smile on the cake."

"What time is the party tonight?" Sam asked, laughing.

"At eight," Violet replied. "Please be on time for the toast. I don't want to be the only one toasting, watched by all the critics... especially Marla Thompkins."

"Did you invite her?" Sheldon asked, raising an eyebrow in surprise. "I didn't expect you to invite her after what she said yesterday."

"All the critics are invited. Not inviting her would show that I'm narcissistic."

"Well, she has a point in her critique..." Cooper murmured.

"Seriously, Cooper? Screw you! Seriously, screw you. What have you written?"

"Hey, Addison," Pete peeked through the door. "Can you do a consult?"

"Sure," Addison took one last sip of antacid and handed it to Violet, who would probably need it more than she did.

~•~

Indeed, doctors do get sick.

But the real problem was that, generally, doctors were the worst patients that could exist.

Addison never admitted when she felt unwell. She often self-diagnosed and treated herself, underestimating the severity of her symptoms. She was always convinced she had everything under control. If others trusted her clinical judgment, why shouldn't she trust herself?

She didn't like relinquishing control. Accustomed to being the one giving orders, she disliked having to go to another professional to tell her what to do or what medication to take. Because she already knew, just as she knew how to manage it.

That's why now, she hadn't wanted to go to a doctor just to be told the obvious. It was a viral gastroenteritis, she was almost certain. Maybe she had come into contact with one of her patients who was infected and caught it. It wasn't a big deal.

She had simply taken an antiemetic to reduce nausea, ibuprofen for her headache, a drink with electrolytes to stay hydrated, and lay back on the sofa in her office waiting for the medication to take effect.

"You look like crap," Amelia said, entering the room.

Addison opened her eyes and sighed tiredly. Not only did she look terrible, she felt terrible.

"Thanks."

"Flu?" she asked, resting her hand on her sister's forehead. "you don't feel warm. Did you eat anything weird?"

"No…"

"So, what's wrong? Other than, you know, you looking like…"

"I don't know, Amelia!" she complained, annoyed. "I just don't feel well, okay? I'm exhausted, I feel nauseous. I just… I don't know. Maybe it's just some sort of delayed reaction to the Bizzy stress."

Amelia looked at her, raising an eyebrow with curiosity, as if she didn't quite trust what she was saying.

"Maybe. Have you gained weight?"

"Okay, now you're just being mean."

"Are you peeing a lot? Your boobs, are they tender?"

"Okay, you are a neurosurgeon," Addison said, sitting up from the sofa impatiently. "I'm a gynecologist, all right? If I were, I would know. And I'm not, okay? I can't be."

"Do you and Sam use protection?" she continued, ignoring Addison's complaints.

"Amelia, I'm telling you I can't," Addison repeated, trying to make her voice sound firm, but something in her tone betrayed a slight thread of doubt.

"Are you late?" she insisted.

Addison fell silent, thinking. No matter how hard she tried, she couldn't remember when her last period was. It had become difficult to know since she entered early perimenopause.

Her cycles had become very irregular over the past five years. They could last anywhere from 21 to 35 days, and there were even some months when she didn't menstruate at all, so it wasn't something she paid much attention to.

"Yes…" she murmured. "But I can't be… I don't think…"

"You're preggers!" Amelia shouted, unable to contain her excitement. "This is awesome!"

Addison's face, in contrast, fell into a mix of shock and disbelief. She squinted, unable to process the reality that Amelia presented as a fact.

"Auntie Amelia…" she said after a moment. "Even though you divorced my brother, I'm still gonna be your kid's aunt, right?"

Addison covered her face with both hands in a clear act of nervousness.

"Amelia, for me to get pregnant, it would take a miracle," she replied, her sister-in-law's laughter echoing in her mind like an unwanted echo.

"A miracle that I am going to spoil rotten. I think I'm gonna take her to Paris for her 13th birthday. Wanna come?"

"You are out of your mind!" Addison complained as she put on her shoes, ready to leave the room. "I am not pregnant!"

"If only there was some way to know for sure… wait, wait. I was out shopping and I saw these tests."

"Knock it off."

"Just pee on a stick!"

"I'm busy!"

"You are stalking."

Addison's response was a faint whisper, but this time a tender smile crept onto her lips.

"You like the idea. Admit it. Admit it," Amelia exclaimed with laughter. "I am not gonna go way until you admit that…"

"Go!" Addison raised her arm, pointing at the door.

Amelia rolled her eyes and was forced to leave. Addison could be incredibly stubborn and in denial when she wanted to be.

Addison's smile widened a little once she was alone. A small spark of hope began to ignite within her, but before she could think about it, Pete walked into her office looking worried.

"I don't understand," he complained. "Lorraine and Elliott have been married for what, eight years?"

Addison grabbed the lemon soda from the coffee table and took a long sip. It was the only thing her body could tolerate that day.

Claudine was a patient that Addison shared with Pete. She was nine months pregnant with her sister Lorraine and her husband Elliott's baby.

At first, the case hadn't seemed strange to her, as she understood that Claudine had offered to carry her sister's baby because Lorraine couldn't get pregnant. It was a huge gesture of love between sisters. But then she found out that Claudine and Elliott were in love, and they were having an affair behind Lorraine's back.

"You understand. You just don't like it," Addison said, taking another sip of soda.

"Yeah. It's just life isn't a cheap romance novel, you know? It's supposed to be about making a commitment, honoring it."

"Sometimes. Other times, for other people, it's about passion."

"You think passion is enough?" Pete rolled his eyes impatiently.

"You don't?"

"To make an adult relationship work, you need more."

"Come on. You're taking about Claudine and Elliott like they're some insubstantial fling. I mean, they're both grown-ups who are taking a risk, a huge risk… because they found each other and fell in love."

"Just because the risk is big, doesn't make it worthwhile."

"I feel for Lorraine. Of course, I do. But on some level. I mean, don't you think it's brave what Elliott and Claudine wanna do?"

Addison lifted the straw of her soda to her mouth again. Pete looked at her seriously, waiting for her to say she was joking.

"Mm. Mm-mm. Stop looking at me like that, Pete. This is not about Sam and me," Addison complained defensively.

"Of course it is."

"Sam and I told Naomi we were in a relationship. We never hid like that. We chose to do the right thing and… it's not the same, okay?"

"Okay… who's gonna tell Lorraine?"

Addison took a deep breath and released it in a heavy sigh.

~•~

"Okay, Claudine," said Addison, finishing writing some notes in the patient's medical record. "You're in the very early stages of labor. You are just three centimeters dilated. So you're gonna be here a while. I will call your regular OB/GYN."

"No. My OB is gone all week. I don't know the woman who's on call for her. Can't you do it?"

Addison opened her mouth to object; she wasn't feeling well that day and didn't want to stay up all night waiting for her to give birth. But at the same time, something within her prevented her from telling a laboring woman no. She knew that Claudine was scared, and leaving her with someone she didn't trust could be overwhelming.

"Okay, but..." murmured Addison.

"And maybe you could call Lorraine... she's so excited."

"No," she said firmly. "I think you should call Lorraine. She's your sister."

"If you mean we should tell her, I can't. We can't. Not… not yet."

"Don't you think that she has a right to know?"

"You know I love Lorraine, right? And I'd do anything for her. I mean, I am. I'm doing this," she said, pointing to her belly. "Ever since we were little, Lorraine wanted to be a mom. She just… she knew. I never did."

Addison sighed and closed her eyes in frustration. She could feel a new wave of nausea coming on.

"Maybe it was too many princess movies growing up. But me? I only wanted to fall in love," continued Claudine. "Which is probably why it never happened to me. And then there was Elliott."

Addison cleared her throat as the salty saliva began to accumulate in her mouth. She stepped away from the patient in case she needed to rush to the bathroom.

"I mean, at first, he was just my big sister's boyfriend who I mostly resented for taking Lor away from me. But once my sister got sick and we really got to know each other, something happened. Something amazing. And the more we tried to hold back, the harder it got, until… I love Lorraine, Dr. Montgomery. I do and I always will. But now, especially since I'm carrying Elliott's baby…"

"Okay, stop, Claudine," Addison interrupted her sharply. "All right, just think about that. All right, you're pregnant, your hormones are all over the place, and they can overwhelm you and…"

"No, that's not what it is. I mean, I wish it was, believe me. But real love can't be confused with anything else."

"Then tell your sister that. I understand that you can't choose who you fall in love with, but you can choose to be honest... and I say this from my own experience."

"Did you also fall in love with your sister's boyfriend?"

"Technically, she's not my sister, but she's my best friend. And yes. I fell in love with her ex-husband, and I know I hurt her by doing so. But I always told her the truth... and over time I think she understood. Or something like that... right now she's not talking to me because he slept with her, and she left town... which isn't a big problem because I... God, I don't know why I'm telling you my personal life. Just... just tell your sister the truth, okay? If you'll excuse me... I need to throw up. I'm sorry."

Claudine nodded in shock, and Addison left the room.

~•~

The soft music resonated in the elegant hall, the echo of laughter and murmurs creating a relaxed and joyful atmosphere. Amid this celebration of literary achievements, Addison felt trapped in a spiral of frustration. The event, a cocktail party to celebrate her friend Violet's debut as an author, was filled with friends and family, but her mind was elsewhere, grappling with the conversation Amelia had planted in her head earlier.

She knew it made no sense to entertain false hopes about a baby. Yes, some of her symptoms matched those of pregnancy and yes, her sexual life had become much more intense with Sam lately, and yes, they weren't using any contraception. It wasn't necessary.

The last time she had been tested to see how her ovarian reserve was doing, her FSH and AMH levels were too low, indicating that she had almost no fertile potential left.

She was forty-three years old, and she only had two follicles. She knew her chances of getting pregnant naturally were practically nil. However, nothing was impossible. And maybe...

"Tell me you're not drinking!" Amelia whispered in her ear, interrupting her thoughts.

"It's ginger ale," she replied, her voice tense, trying to downplay her sister-in-law's accusation.

"It's a small price to pay for a B-A-B-Y!" she exclaimed with a wide smile.

"Shh!" she turned to her sister-in-law, frowning. "Shut up."

"You know, at some point, you're gonna have to take a pregnancy test. You can do it now or when the kid starts kinder," she said while grabbing a salmon appetizer from one of the trays adorning the buffet table. Amelia had arrived that night determined to try every dish, and her enthusiasm now seemed to amplify Addison's discomfort.

"It's not advisable to drink alcohol with gastroenteritis."

"Not even when pregnant." Amelia laughed.

"You know, maybe it's just a psychosomatic response to the stress of having to put up with you," she complained, taking another sip from her glass.

"Have you told Sam he's gonna be a dad yet?" she asked, biting into an arugula and cheese bruschetta, ignoring what she had just said.

"No one's going to be a parent here. Amelia, don't you hear me when I talk to you?" her voice, now raised, was charged with annoyance. "People get sick, women get sick. Don't you think it's a bit outdated and sexist to think that a woman can't throw up or feel unwell unless she's pregnant? Stomach viruses exist. Get over it and leave me alone."

"Oh God, you're so pregnant," Amelia just laughed carefree, biting her lower lip in a gesture full of emotion.

"Hey, everybody," Pete said, approaching Violet, each holding a glass of champagne. "I wanna propose a toast to our favorite new author."

A wave of applause and cheers resonated in the hall, while the sparkle of raised glasses filled the air.

"Uh, here's hoping that your book outsells mine," Sam raised his glass to clink with Violet's.

"And that someone very handsome plays me in the movie they make," Sheldon joked, provoking more laughter and unanimous applause.

"Cheers!" Pete exclaimed.

Addison, feeling detached from the situation, raised her ginger ale glass with a resigned smile.

"Cheers!" she echoed, her voice slightly wavering, as everyone joined in the toast. In her mind, the echo of Amelia rang insistently, and the weight of what could be seemed to strangle her.

~•~

Hospitals are places where time flows differently from the outside world.

Inside them, the cold, white lights wash over the corridors and waiting rooms with a perpetual glow, erasing the boundaries between day and night.

The natural cycles of time lose their meaning there. The day lacks the warmth of the sun, and the night is drowned in the artificial brightness of LED lights, creating a space where the ordinary transforms into the timeless.

The hum of machines, the murmurs of patients, and the constant comings and goings of staff contribute to an atmosphere that challenges the common understanding of time.

Addison had become so accustomed to this that she hadn't realized she had fallen asleep there all afternoon until Amelia stood in front of her with her arms crossed.

Her morning shift had been particularly intense that day. Claudine, after a grueling night of labor, had suffered an unexpected uterine rupture. As soon as Addison found out, she rushed to the hospital to perform an emergency C-section, as both she and the baby were in critical condition.

Once the baby was out, Claudine began to lose a significant amount of blood. The muscle of her uterus had completely torn, and her vital signs were rapidly declining. Without waiting another minute, Addison decided to perform a hysterectomy to stop the bleeding, which meant Claudine would no longer be able to have children.

When Elliott learned of this, he had told Claudine that they could take the baby and leave together. But Pete had told Lorraine about his intentions, urging her to fight for her daughter and to find strength within herself to reclaim her child.

Addison was completely drained after the procedure and the intense argument she had witnessed between Lorraine, Elliott, and Claudine, to the point that she had fallen asleep in one of the call rooms.

"Hmm?" she murmured, barely opening her eyes. "What's going on? What time is it?"

"It's seven in the evening," Amelia complained. "I searched for you all damn afternoon and it turns out you were here sleeping like a lazy intern!"

"Seven?" she asked while yawning.

"Come on, get up. Or do you plan to spend the night here too?" Her tone showed impatience.

Feeling the weight of the reproach, Addison sat on the edge of the bed and rubbed her eyes with the back of her hand.

"What happened with Claudine and Lorraine? Have they left?" she asked, recalling what had happened earlier.

"I don't know who those are. Put on your shoes, let's go"

With an almost automatic nod, Addison slipped on the Crocs she used to enter the operating room. She still had on the turquoise scrubs she had worn during surgery.

"I need to stop by my locker to grab my clothes and my things…" said Addison as they left the room, turning toward the locker rooms.

"No. I'm not waiting for you another minute!"

Amelia grabbed her arm with unexpected force. It was a sharp tug that made Addison lose her balance and start to stumble alongside her.

"Let go of me!" she protested, struggling to free herself. Her voice echoed in the hallway, but Amelia's grip didn't yield. Despite being six inches shorter than her, she kept pushing her.

Amelia took Addison to the doctors' restrooms. Once inside, she stopped in front of one of the stalls and, with a determined kick, pushed the door to shove her sister-in-law inside.

"Do the damn test!" Amelia ordered, handing her a small box with a pregnancy test before closing the door.

"You didn't have to be this rough!" Addison shouted from inside, feeling trapped in the small space of the stall.

"Just pee on that stupid stick!"

Indignant, Addison felt heat rise to her cheeks, but that frustration quickly turned into resignation. She knew something strange was happening in her body and she couldn't keep postponing it. She needed to close the circle of uncertainty and rid herself once and for all of that ridiculous illusion that had taken hold of her mind. Even if it meant facing disappointment.

With a deep sigh, she took a step forward and prepared to do it.

Minutes passed like eternities. The light in the stall seemed to grow more oppressive, while the silence, laden with expectation, enveloped both of them.

Amelia, clinging to the outside of the door, could feel her own heart pounding.

"Well?… Addie?" she called fearfully. The impatience felt like a living fire burning inside her, and the silence responding to her call was almost deafening. She worried that silence was filled with answers neither of them was prepared to face. "You're killing me…"

The words had barely left her mouth when Addison abruptly opened the door to exit the stall without showing any expression on her face.

There were no tears in her eyes that revealed sadness or emotion, nor was there a smile or pout on her lips. Her skin was so pale that she looked like a walking specter, and her breath was noticeably quicker than usual.

"I have to go to the lab…" she muttered, still trembling with the test in her hands.

"What? Why? What is it?"

"It's positive… I think… I think it's a mistake."